


The Hidden Lonely Mountain

by Cluck_and_Peck



Series: Write ALL the Hobbit AUs! [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, F/M, Female Bilbo, Rule 63, The Mummy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:05:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2813027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluck_and_Peck/pseuds/Cluck_and_Peck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mummy AU<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>Archaeologist Billa Baggins hires Thorin Oakenshield  to be her guide to the ancient city of Erebor. All the past expeditions to find the city have been in vain and no one has ever returned whole and healthy from such an attempt but Billa firmly believes it can be done. All that talk of the sons of Durin being cursed to roam Middle Earth forever until the kingdom was reclaimed were nonsense of course, as was the rumour of a winged serpent that was said to guard the city. She was going to find the Book of the Arkenstone no matter what and nobody was going to stop her!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love The Mummy and I love The Hobbit and I would love to see Thorin in suspenders.

Billa Baggins, daughter of the great adventurer Belladonna Baggins, chided the book in her hand as she walked up to the bookcase where it was supposed to be.

“Young man, I shall not have you wandering around anymore! Why is it that I always find you in the Mythology and Lore section Mister Lectures on Invertebrate Palaeontology?”

She rose on the balls of her feet to put in the right place but found herself unable to reach the distance. Still, it was only a few scant inches away and so without any further thought, she found a foothold on the lower shelves and reached up to put it in. It was something she did often, given that she was a Baggins her feet were always immaculate and she always made sure they never touched a single book. She’d done this a million times but unlike the other times she was a bit distressed at that moment having just received a particularly depressing letter and consequently shoved the book in with a bit too much force and leaned against it more than she should have.

And as if her day could not have possibly gotten any better, the bookshelf toppled over, taking her along with it and the other two in that row. It made a loud racket, so loud in fact that the curator, Mr Elrond came rushing in, worried.

“Miss Baggins!” He said in much the same tone she had used on the book just a few seconds ago. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“Umm-I-uh.”

“Straighten up this mess immediately!” Elrond said, his eyes flashing and he swept out. Billa’s head fell down and she began to rebuke herself by hitting her head over and over again on the book that had begun this whole problem. Unfortunately the title was written in tiny stones and it wasn’t long before she stopped those actions, an imprint of ‘Palaeo’ stamped into her forehead.

A good few hours later (half her work day in fact) she found herself standing like a child being dressed down in front of a pacing Elrond.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” Billa said, prostrating herself before Elrond could say anything. She was sure she looked rather pathetic, her usually neatly tied copper curls were in disarray and there were cobwebs in it, the glass of her spectacles almost matching the burnished gold of the frame under the thick layer of dust and askew on her nose which was red from sneezing and her hands had more paper cuts than she even believed humanly possible and her clothes had more folds and creases than the most complex pieces of origami. Yes, she must have looked quite pathetic indeed. But it must have been even worse than she thought because instead of the reprimand she was expecting Elrond sighed instead.

“Is something the matter Billa?”

“Oh I wouldn’t say it’s a problem as much as it is a bit...distressing.” She pouted for a brief moment before squaring her jaw determinedly. “But I promise it won’t distract me from my work anymore.”

“That’s not what I asked. When I took you on as the librarian here, I was well aware that you might not be the adventurer that Belladonna was-“ Elrond spoke so kindly but that feeling of inadequacy that often reared its head when her mother was mentioned had Billa wilting, “but you weren’t inefficient in the least. Now why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I got a letter regarding my application from Arda University.” She answered reluctantly, keeping her eyes on the balcony above. If they were blinking furiously and a bit shiny then it was only because of the dust, truly.

“And?”

“And Saruman says that there is no place for me in any capacity in any current or planned expeditions and to try again later.”

“I see. Well you know no matter what there will always be a place for you here.”

“I know. Thank you for that.” She smiled before shaking herself out of it. “I’m just going to go sort out and label the new shipment of artefacts.”

 A model of the Vingilote crafted from Mithril complete with little oars was taking up most of her time. It had to be dissembled, every component noted and then put back together again. She was just through oar number four fifty three when a clatter caught her attention. Billa looked up suspiciously but also a bit scared. The storeroom was filled with boxes, all of different sizes and stacked in ways that created a labyrinth where all noises were amplified and resounded. She put the ship down packing it in the box, separating the counted items and uncounted into sections and on silent feet began investigating. In the dark of the room, only barely illuminated by candles, everything seemed eerie and even the shadows had shadows.

“Mister Elrond? Lindir, is that you?” No answer came and she relaxed figuring that whoever it was, had gone away. She turned to return to her work and shrieked when a tall figure smoking a pipe appeared a few millimetres away from her face. “Oh my God, Gandalf! What are you doing?!”

“No good morning this time, dear?”

Billa rolled her eyes, ignoring Gandalf’s teasing. “Haha very funny, unfortunately it is not a good morning, it is not a morning to be good on and I don’t really care if you have a good morning!”

“My dear, whatever is the matter?” Her adopted brother asked as she sat down at her work table and sulked. She began removing the parts of the ship from the box and resumed with the job only keeping half her eyes on Gandalf.

She tried to maintain her silence but it wasn’t long before everything came tumbling out.

“The Arda scholars rejected my application, they said I don’t have enough experience in the field to be going with them on field expeditions and guess how I’m supposed to get more field experience?”

“By going on field expeditions?”

“Yes, by going on the very same expeditions that I can’t go on because I don’t have any experience in them.” Her lower lip jutted out and her eyes were becoming curiously shiny but with a twist of her nose and a bit of frowning she returned her face to its usual blankness.

“Well. At least you’ll always have me.” Gandalf said, a wide grin on his too young yet too old face and she cracked a grin at that.

“Oh, and that’s such a consolation, is it?”

“Well if that isn’t then perhaps you’ll prefer what I’ve gotten for you instead.”

“A present? You know I don’t like those little trinkets you’re bringing in, honestly what am I supposed to do with-“She trailed off as, instead of a trinket, he presented her with a little box of gold with ancient Khuzdul runes etched into it in mithril. The hats he brought her from the far off lands he visited were lovely if useless in the pleasant mild of Rivendell and the earrings although pretty meant nothing to her unpierced ears but in this one little thing, Gandalf had just made up for years of terrible presents

The instructions were clear to her, well versed in ancient Khuzdul as she was and she twisted the little thing gently at the almost invisible seams to reveal an old piece of parchment. Billa put away the box to the side and opened the folds of the map delicately and with trembling hands. Shaking fingers came to her mouth to suppress the little cry of joy as she read the words written on it.

‘Here lies the Lonely Mountain.’

 _Erebor_.  


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ve already dated the map, it’s over four thousand years old, dating back to the end of the First Age, we are talking the very birth of Erebor at the end of the Great War, this is the cartographer’s mark and it was made by one of the Firebeard clan. The insignia in the cartouche there, is Erebor, the Lonely Mountain itself and this,” She pointed at a particularly tiny etching of a book that was held open and radiated light. “This is the Book of the Arkenstone, the official seal of the house of Durin, I’m sure of it.”

She was trembling in excitement as she held out the map to Elrond who was frowning down at the map. Billa turned to share a breathless grin with Gandalf which he returned even as he lounged disgracefully against the replica of Luthien, much to Elrond’s annoyance. Her employer, hemmed and hawed over the map, holding the delicate parchment close to the light of the candle to get a good view.

“Are we talking Erebor the greatest Dwarf Kingdom to ever exist?” Gandalf asked.

“Yes!”

“The one with immeasurable treasure?”

“Yes!”

“And the curse of the winged serpent that lies in wake for the one who will awaken it from its slumber?”

“Yes but that’s all hokum.” She waved it off and didn’t notice the meaningful glance Elrond and Gandalf shared over her head as she paced, excited.

“And the other curse? You don’t believe in them either?”

“Well of course not, I mean it would be ridiculous! It may _say_ that the descendants of Durin would live on until the Mountain was reclaimed but that would mean that there are people amongst us who might be three hundred years old, I mean it’s ridiculous.”

“Yes,” Elrond commented dryly, “So utterly ridiculous and unbelei- Ai, Eru!” He shrieked and the map that had caught fire was thrown out of his hand unceremoniously and Billa and Gandalf, both rushed to salvage what they could of it.

“You’ve ruined it!” All she could see now of the map was a sooty darkness that covered all but a few portions of it. Even as she put it out with her own bare hands earning herself a blister in the process and aggravating every single one of the many paper cuts upon her fingers in doing so she was confused and distraught.

This was her ticket to Arda, to field explorations, to everything! And somehow Elrond, the man who was utterly fanatical about handling all ancient parchments with gloves and proper equipment had managed to burn it. Something didn’t quite add up.

“It’s just as well that it is gone.” He said sternly. “Many have fallen in pursuit of that city, even the men that resided there when it was still filled with life, fell to gold sickness easily, far too easily. That place is cursed and should remain unseen. Lives, minds and souls have been lost to it.”

“You’ve ruined it!” Billa repeated and Elrond sighed rolling his eyes.

“And in doing so I may have saved your lives.” Something came over him then, his voice richer deeper as he paced slowly, haunting, in a way and Billa was fascinated. “Every country has sent envoys, armies to recover the Lonely Mountain. Gondor, Ered Luin and Rohan. Even Imladris. Know this, in all those cases only one man survived. And he returned only to tell the tale of _death_.”

* * *

She rushed out the door to where Gandalf was waiting with the motor of his bright yellow car still running. Billa almost tripped over the higher than usual heels that she was wearing but regained her bearings and got into the car, only slamming the door a little bit in her excitement.

Gandalf shook his head and began driving. “What took you so long?”

“Well I wanted to make a good impression, so it took a while to decide what to wear!” She adjusted the collar of the cool white pristine blouse, open at the throat and her best skirt, a deep navy blue with neat pleats. It had taken a while to find something in her closet that wasn’t just pinstriped or a dusty tan colour but she had eventually managed.

“Oh.” Gandalf said and pointedly avoided her eyes. Billa did not like the sound of that ‘oh’.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong it’s just-” He stalled spluttering a bit as he pretended to look for the right words. Billa had known Gandalf her whole life, he _never_ needed to look for the right words. He did, however, need to look for the right way to say things that might otherwise get him strangled though. “Well I may have given you the wrong impression when I said that we might be able to reason out something with him.”

“But he’s the only man to return from the last expedition to Erebor.”

“Yes and he is a good man although a bit...volatile. And when I said reasoned with I meant...bought.”

“Bought? What do you mean bought, why would anyone need to be bought to go to Erebor anyway, it’s supposed to be home to a vast treasure, if they just wanted money then they could have just gone on the expedition themselves and-“ And Billa noticed where they pulling up. “Gandalf?” She asked in a tight voice and her brother curled around the steering wheel in anticipation of the outburst

“Yes?”

“That’s the prison.”

“...Yes.”

“Why are we at the prison?”

“Well because...he might be held here.”

“WHAT?! You said you had a legitimate lead, not a criminal!”

“Now now, who’s to say that he isn’t a legitimate lead, criminals can be honest too. Even thieves have their honour.” He wagged a finger in her face.

“Oh so he’s a thief? Is that why he’s in jail?”

“I must confess I don’t know why he’s in jail. I don’t think the wardens do either. But we just need to post bail and he’ll be with us on the journey, I’m sure of it.”

They had now left the car parked and begun to walk towards the prison.

“How sure?”

“Fairly sure. Not to worry I sent a message to the prison warden earlier and he’s said he can arrange for a meeting with the prisoner.”

“Great. Just great.”

They walked in through a small door in the large gate and strode forward. The warden, a large pot bellied man with only a few hairs on his half bald head, that he seemed very proud of given the way he smoothed it down every few seconds, greeted them with a large yellow smile.

“Hello Madame, I’m Master.”

Billa tilted her head, inquiringly. “Master what?” The warden’s greasy smile faltered.

“Just...the Master. Master of Laketown prison.”

Given the way he needed a peon at his hand to guide him through the hallways of Laketown prison, Billa found it hard to believe him the master of anything at all. But with her arm threaded through Gandalf’s she strode ahead anyway.

“What has he been convicted of? Was he a thief? Did he get caught, is that it?”

“I don’t know and I don’t think anyone here does either.” The Master said sanctimoniously, clicking his boots.

“Well perhaps the prisoner knows?” Billa said, annoyed and confused.

Instead of the Master, the rather insipid, drowned looking man who was leading him spoke. “I asked him meself what he’d done. He said he was just having a good time.” He laughed nastily and Billa was filled with the urge to find the book on palaeontology with its many stones on the cover and slap him around with it. Her distaste must have shown because with a clearing of his throat the rat man banged his baton on the bars of the holding cell. “Bring ‘im out.”

And they did. It was apparent that this was no normal prisoner, it was obvious in the bearing, in the bluer than blue eyes and in the proud line of his mouth, the...stain of scotch on his cambric shirt, good scotch too, the colour told her that. But it was mostly evident in the way four well armed men were needed to hold him down even while his hands were cuffed in front of him.

He struggled against his bonds admirably but was brought down by the slam of a hand in his back.

“Don’t, I need him coherent.” Billa ordered.

“Don’t worry love, I’m sure my unconscious body’s good to play with too.” He said with a lascivious smile and a voice made for sin but Billa hadn’t studied in a co-ed university for nothing and she snorted.

“I’ll save the privilege of that for your cellmate.”

“What’s a nice piece of goods like you doing in this part of the woods?”

“Looking for you actually. I’d like to hire you.”

He snorted. “Listen lady, I don’t know what they’ve told you but-“

“I want you to tell me how to get to where you were last with the Rohirric army.”

And all semblance of humour leached out of his face.

“You mean-“

“Yes.” She said quickly before he could finish the sentence. Dropping names like Erebor was dangerous, especially in a place like Laketown prison. The guards were already looking at her with suspicion ad she realised perhaps she shouldn’t have spoken in Rohirric after all.

“You want me to what? Draw you a map?” He said laughingly.

“That would be nice.” Then she wouldn’t need him there at all.

He smiled a crooked smile and crooked his finger at her, telling her to come closer. Ignoring the drowned looking man’s protests and Gandalf’s harrumph she did exactly that, edging closer to him until their faces were very close together, the bars all but forgotten.

“You want to get to Erebor?” He whispered, softly enough that no one heard him but her. Billa nodded furiously but regretted it when the smile turned to a smirk and he fixed his mouth over hers, slanting his head and biting at her bottom lip earning a muffled yelp in return before pulling away just as abruptly. “Then get me out of here.”

And a flurry of movement surrounded them as he was pulled away from the bars and another baton was just about to come down swiftly over his head when Billa cried out. “Wait!”

“Can’t wait, he needs to be hanged.” The drowned rat said. “Takin’ liberties with a lady like that, why I oughta-“

“Bu-but you can’t hang him!”

“Oh? And why not?”

“Because I’ll give you a hundred coins if you release him right now!”

And all movement stopped.

The drowned man was pushed aside by the Master who had been standing there all that time, allowing the man to do his work for him.

“How many?”

“A hundred.”

The Master and the man conferred for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and spoke again.

“And why would you pay such a handsome price for his freedom, Madame?”

“Beeeeeecause,” She needed to come up with a good excuse quick and all she could think of was how that kiss seemed to be right out of a Danielle Irone book. And that’s when the answer came to her, “he’s my husband!”

Billa had never been the focus of so many incredulous looks before. It was almost insulting. “Really?”

“Yes and I need him alive to...to come with me to Rohan and sign the divorce papers so that I can get married to my lover!”

“So you have need of him then?”

“Yes, I _just_ said that.” Billa scoffed and the man grinned wide.

“You heard the old ball and chain, I need to sign papers.”

“Hmm and what if we do not let him go, eh? How much would you be willing to pay for him then?”

Billa fixed the Master with a cold stare. “A hundred coins no more, no less. Doesn’t matter to me either way, you’ll hang him which means I’ll be free to marry Gordon.” She sneered and made to turn away. “In fact you might as well as, why should I possibly pay for him?”

She had made it a good few steps away when the two called out. “Wait!” It took her a while to turn because she was far too busy suppressing the very smug smile on her face. “A hundred coins it is.”

The door to the cell was opened and the prisoner was pushed out, his hands freed from the cuffs. He rubbed his wrists but smiled smugly before swooping down into a low bow.

“Thorin Oakenshield, at your service.”


	3. Chapter 3

Billa glared at the door behind which their ‘guest’ was cleaning himself up. Gandalf had insisted on taking him straight to their shared apartments in Fort Imladris.

“Do we have to take him with us?” She sulked.

Billa had just wanted to get the man, Thorin Oakenshield, to re-draw the map and then they could go off on their own, but nooo, Gandalf insisted that he be their guide in person. She tended to take Gandalf’s advice in such cases, after all he was the one with extensive travelling experience while she had only made one journey her whole life and that was from Shireland to Rivendell.

 “The lands east haven’t been mapped, they are dangerous and unpredictable. Having someone with us who has actually been to Erebor will be a boon.”

“I just don’t like the man.”

Something about Thorin Oakenshield put her on edge

“Anyone I know?” Came the gravelly voice that she just knew was going to come to her in her dreams and she closed her eyes for a brief second before opening them again.

Thorin was standing there, clean shaven and apparently hiding a very nice chin under all that hair. He leaned against a bookcase with a rakish grin on his face and her dislike for him intensified.

He was making her say things like ‘rakish grin for Eru’s sake!

“Oh, you know him very well.”

“I’m going to go fetch the puzzle box.” Gandalf said and quickly made his way out, eyes twinkling while Billa glared at him. The second he was gone Thorin began looming and she picked up a book and began reading it.

“Felling a little pissed off about that kiss are we?” Thorin smirked.

Billa sighed, not even moving her eyes off the page she was reading, or at least, pretending to read. From the corner of the eye though, she could see his profile quite clearly, the hawkish nose, the incredibly blue eyes, the mouth that had been on hers. She could almost feel his breath on her ear as she remembered him whispering in her pulse, making her feel a bit warmer than she was used to and flustered and shivery. Not that she spent a lot of time thinking about it. No siree, Billa was completely unaffected by the Kiss. “Kisses like _that_ , are the reason I have a cat.”

“Because you’re unused to them and interested in becoming an old cat lady?” The smug jerk she was regretting rescuing said. 

“Because dogs slobber.”

He snorted but before he could say something insulting again, their repartee was interrupted by Gandalf who came in flipping the box from one hand to the other, an action that had Billa letting out a strangled sound and reaching out for it with curling hands. Before she could do anything of the sort it was in Thorin’s hand and he was staring at it with the oddest expression, something between awe and pain.

“How came you by this?” He said and Billa was surprised by how thick his voice sounded but Gandalf shot the man a knowing look as Thorin’s fingers slipped over the runes reverently. He twisted it open like she had at the museum but with much more ease, as if he’d had some practice with it which was strange, to say the least. That box hadn’t been opened in a great many centuries. The awe turned to anger though a she turned accusing eyes to Billa. “There should be a map inside this, where is it?”

“Burnt. Someone accidentally held it too close to a candle.”

Thorin looked as pained as she had felt when she’d seen it happen. She wasn’t that opposed to him going with them to Erebor anymore, he might be a pain but the man clearly knew and respected his history. “That is ill news. The map was said to have hidden instructions on it pertaining to the lock.”

“Lock?

“The lock the key opens.” He explained vaguely.

“The key?”

He smiled again and twisted and turned the puzzle box until it was deconstructed into a different shape from the one it had started with. The bottom portion stayed the same but the upper section had been pulled apart to reveal a design on the inside of the box that Billa hadn’t noticed yet. The symbol of Mahal was etched into it.

“There is supposed to be a secret entrance into the mountain and this is the key. But without the map it is useless, the locks are built to open only at certain times and without knowing the ti-“

“Durin’s day.  ‘ _Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole.’,_ that’s what the map said.” She said offhandedly, still studying the hammer and anvil of Mahal on the box. She looked up to find the two staring at her and flushed. “I thought it best to conduct all the tests and catalogue all the results. The blacklight revealed ancient Khuzdul runes and I was bored so I set about translating it before I showed it to the curator.”

“You read ancient Khuzdul?” The awe in Thorin’s voice was flattering.

“Yes, and I majored in the Rise and Fall of Erebor. It was the topic of my dissertation actually. Did you know, the crown prince of Erebor at the time of its fall was named Thorin too! Isn’t that an interesting  coincidence? Or were you named for him?”

He made a strange noise and Gandalf’s eyes twinkled again. “No, not exactly named for him.” He cleared his throat. “Where did you find this?” He asked Gandalf.

“It was given to me by a mad man in Dol Guldur.” Her brother said gravely and Billa’s breath hitched.

“What were you thinking going there?!”

Dol Guldur was famous for being the most lawless militant country in the world. It was the place where all illegal operations started and ended, where the streets themselves were marked in blood. It was said to be the city where Azog, a famous supporter of the Necromancer Cult was said to reside and she did not like the thought of anyone being there, let alone her brother.

“The man you got it from-?” Thorin asked, an urgency in his voice.

“He said that he had been waiting a long time for someone he could pass the box to. And older man with an eye missing and tattoos running along his brow.”

“In Dol Guldur?”

“Yes but I do not know if he is still there,” Gandalf said apologetically which confused Billa. Why was he apologising for the fact that he didn’t know where that man was? “We met while exiting the borders through one of the secret paths.”

“Well,” Billa said after the silence got stretched for a bit too long. “I should get to packing.”

“I’ll go book the train tickets.” Gandalf said and left the two to their devices. Unable to take the awkward silence anymore Billa went to the kitchen, mentally making a list of things she would need to bring.

“I don’t think there is a train that takes you to Erebor.” Thorin said still leaning against the door watching her very carefully. It was a bit unnerving actually but she had to pack and no stare was going to distract her, no matter how the steely blue eyes seemed to be searing into her very soul and no matter how much that voice inside her head was beginning to sound like those trashy romance novels that she would never admit to reading.

“Don’t be ridiculous, tomorrow we head out for the Blue Mountains of course.”

The man tensed and squared his shoulders, looking for the very first time, entirely the part of a soldier. “Why?”

“Well we can’t very well march into someone else’s ancient homeland without permission can we?! Honestly that would be like someone just walking into my room and rearranging my books! And using my frying pan without asking, cooking meat stew in the rice pot!” She shuddered. Even the thought was revolting and she picked up the frying pan that she was wrapping in cloth and putting into her bag and clutched it a bit closer to her chest. “So I’m going to ask for permission and if anyone wants to join in because, well, it’s only right that they send someone to make sure I don’t take what isn’t mine.”

“Except the book of the Arkenstone.” He said pointedly.

“I don’t mind if I don’t get to keep it, just making sure that one of the most ancient important texts in the history of the world is not lost anymore would be worth it. Or even knowing that it exists and isn’t just some fairytale my mother used to tell me...” She bit her lip and looked away for a good few second before looking at him again with a fake smile. “Besides, if this goes well, I’ll finally have the field experience for the scholars at Arda to accept my application!”

“Right, Arda University.” He said in a tone of disbelief and she glared and went back to her pans. When she looked up again he was far too close, their noses brushing against one another reminiscent of the kiss. He smirked and pulled away just when she was about to lean in. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really going to Erebor?”

“Because nothing interests me as much as Erebor does. I’m from Shireland, I’ve never wanted to leave my comforts, my home, my armchair for anything. But Erebor does that to me, I want to see it with my own eyes. The rest of the world I’ll see through my books but I need Erebor to be real.”

She bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything more but her answer must have sufficed Thorin because his eyes softened and a hint of a smile, a real one, came to his lips.

“Then I’ll take you there.”


	4. Chapter 4

The motion of the train was actually quite soothing to Billa. It had been so the last time as well, she’d been happily fluttering from passenger car to the Bar and the viewing deck while Gandalf had gotten terribly sick and stayed in bed. She didn’t know why he was so sensitive to travelling in trains, he didn’t seem to have any problems at sea or in the tiny fighter planes he frequented while travelling the world.

She sat in the plush chairs watching the world pass by with what must have been a ridiculously wide smile. They had just crossed Hobbiton, from the bridge where they were thundering across she could just make out the weathervane on her Grandparent’s house with her opera glasses and grinned even further.

“Why are you so happy?” She almost shrieked and leapt out of her chair when the voice spoke very suddenly right in her ear.

Thorin Oakenshield smirked and moved from where he was standing behind her chair to the one next to her, sitting down in one loud whoosh and she glared at him.

“I like trains.” She answered when he repeated his query.

“Tin cans on wheel.” He muttered glaring as the world passed them by.

“So is a car but you didn’t seem to have a problem with that.”

In fact Thorin had all but leapt at the chance to drive around town as they prepared for the journey.

“I like driving. Sitting in the backseat however...” He made a face.

The scene outside shifted over the next few minutes, from the rolling hills of the Shire to the dry dusty plains that marked the closeness to the Blue Mountains. As descendants of the displaced people of Erebor, there a lot of the Casari touch to their crafts, all about mining and not about agriculture. Then again the area all around the Blue hills was little but rock and would have been terribly difficult to cultivate anyway. The car they were in was now completely empty and Thorin moved to sit across from her. As her interest in the view dimmed she decided to be productive instead and took the piece of paper she had on her and began sketching on it.

“Is that the map to Erebor?” Thorin said accusingly, “Are you recreating it? I thought it was destroyed?”

“It is but I’m trying to re-draw it. I remember most of it and thought that might come in helpful to see if there were any other secrets the map was hiding.”

“But this isn’t the original map.”

“I know but it might still be useful. The museum had an old map from Gondor that was frankly quite incorrect geographically, with a cipher that no one could figure out. Seemingly random words and numbers and then Elrond retraced it and we found that when the map was folded in places to correct the geography the words weren’t random anymore. They turned out to be the co-ordinates to the exact location of the Crown of Elendil. So it might come handy to have a copy of the map.”

“Unless it falls in the wrong hands and we end up with competitors.”

“Competitors?”

“You don’t honestly think you’re the only one looking for Erebor do you?” Billa was impressed by how he managed to convey such a mixture of bitterness and amusement. “There is always a quest for Erebor going on.”

“Yes, but we have something no one else does.”

“Oh? And what might that be?” He leaned in again. Billa wished he would stop doing that it made her think of that kiss in the prison.

“Gandalf. He never fails, especially when the odds are against him. It’s actually quite strange.”

“And what of the heirs to Erebor and their claim to the mountain? Does it not concern you at all?”

“Well they’ve been willing enough to let all sorts of armies march upon the Lonely Mountain, I don’t see why a soldier, an archaeologist and a traveller are any more of a threat.”

Honestly, was Billa actually supposed to take into consideration the feelings of the heirs to a throne that no longer existed?

“An army would find it nigh impossible to sneak inside the mountain without disturbing its...contents.”

“I get the feeling you’re not talking about the artefacts.” Billa scoffed, shaking her head and went back to re-drawing the map but he put both hands down on either side of it and forced her attention to him.

“There’s something down there. Something you really don’t want to awaken.”

“You wouldn’t know the first thing about what I want, Mister Oakenshield.”

He smiled. It was not a nice or pleasant smile.

“You think I don’t know you? Like you’re a special little snowflake? All that talk of Arda university but what you really want is for people to see and not see your mother, isn’t that right? Poor little rich girl, searching for identity by putting a whole lot of people in danger. No, you don’t care what happens to anyone else, as long as you get your recognition, as long as you get your name on a pretty little plaque.” He sneered and she shook with barely contained anger before controlling herself.

“I am going to ignore that,” She took a deep breath releasing it slowly, letting out all the tension that had gathered at the fist she was dying to throw in his face. “Because you have spent most of your time in a prison. And before that, in an army. Civilisation is undoubtedly foreign to you by now, as you have made blatantly obvious.”

“Yeah ri-“

“But if you say something wrong and end up making the people in the Blue hills angry, or in any way impeding my expedition, I shall do exactly as you said I would and ruin you for getting in my way. Because as of right now, I definitely don’t care what happens to _you_ as long as I, oh what was it you said? Ah, yes, as long as I get my recognition and my name on a pretty little plaque.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

She stormed out only to return for the map. Then she stormed out again, properly this time.

Billa returned to the compartment where Gandlaf was bent over a bucket.

“Taking that beast of a man on this trip is the worst thing we could have possibly done and I blame you!”

Gandalf looked up and moaned piteously.

“He only left fifteen minutes ago, how did you two manage to get into a fight in that time?”

“Ohhh, very easily.”

She really hated that guy.

* * *

 

“So, this is it.” Billa stared at the city that lay sprawled out in front of her, houses carved out form the stone itself, like the mountain had moulded itself anew to give the poor souls who must have been displaced by the siege of Erebor a new home. It was beautiful but there was something oddly haunting about it. “The Blue Mountains.”

“Ered Luin.” Thorin said beside her and she shifted, stuck between wanting to ask him how he knew of the Sindarin name for it and ignoring him for being an absolute cad. Her pride won and her nose twitched for a brief moment while she got her curiosity under control.

“We need to find a certain Mister Balin, he rules as the steward while the acting heir of the Durin is away.” Gandalf announced.

“By my beard,” A gruff voice said quite suddenly and they realised that the guard that had waved them to the gate had descended from his watchtower and was looking at Thorin with a curious expression. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“He seems angry.” Billa whispered to Gandalf who simply shushed her much to her consternation.

“Just wait.”

“Dwalin. Good to see you again.” Thorin answered rather stiffly, his horse shifting, clearly affected by the tension he held.

“Good to see you too. Or at least yer face for once. Usually it’s yer back I see while you run away.”

“Indeed.” Thorin dismounted and the two men stood nearly nose to nose, bristling with aggression. Billa was afraid, while she wasn’t particularly fond of Thorin, she didn’t exactly want to see him getting thrashed by the bear like man either.

Her sense of honour wouldn’t allow her to dole out vengeance on an already thoroughly defeated man and she _really_ wanted revenge.

The two men circled one another when Thorin abruptly put his right hand on the man’s left shoulder and the man did the same. Suddenly, they bashed their skulls together and she gasped, her mind filled with visions of having to nurse Thorin back to health so she could beat him up again.

But then they started laughing. Jovially even.

“Ah come on you knuckle head. I’ll take you to Balin. And your little friends too.” He nodded at her and Gandalf. “Dwalin, at your service.”

"Billa at yours." She stuttered out and a smug Thorin walked off with Dwalin's arm slug around his shoulder, leaving her and Gandalf to follow them.

Still gaping, she followed while Gandalf guided her by a shove on her shoulder.

“See, I told you, everything is fine.” Her brother said and when she looked at him she saw no surprise on his face whatsoever, like he had expected all of this to happen and she glared at him with all her might.

“I _loathe_ you.”


End file.
